Ruling Him With a Smile
by thisisnotmybeautifulhouse
Summary: ... Rather Than an Iron Fist.     Arthur's head whipped around faster than a Sidhe, and he gawked, squawking out "Wait. You're WHAT!"        Or: AlwaysaGirl!Merlin nearly gives Arthur a heart attack on as many occasions as possible. Gwaine and George help
1. Blink and You'll Miss It

This is an alternate fill for this prompt on the KMM: _"I'm pregnant, Arthur. I think it's twins, could be triplets, they do run in my family you know. And, yes, before-"  
>"Wait. You're WHAATTT?"<br>"So you are listening to me."_

**This was going to be a one-shot, and then it just kept growing. The positive response this received over on lj and Ao3 was a little overwhelming, as I've never written genderbending fic before. **

**On lj and Ao3, I posted every chapter separately, butin order to save us all the headache, I'm just going to post the main story as sixteen chapters, and the one-shots and other pieces that come later will be in separate files, though I'll indicate that they are part of this series. Every time I think I'm going to woman up and fix the way this is organized on Ao3, I get cold feet, and so it just never gets done. At least it's listed as a series? **

__**Enough about logistics - on with the fic :) **

Clangs and clashes rang out all around the practice field, and Merlin purposefully maneuvered in and out of the bellicose pairs.

Golden and godlike, her target ducked to the right as his sword swung up to meet a heavy blow, then he twisted out of the crouch and floored his opponent. He finished as Merlin reached him, panting yet victorious.

"Arthur, there's a meeting in the council chamber in a candle mark, so we should go to your room and get you into the bath I've drawn…" Her voice trailed off as she realized that her king had not even glanced her way, and then a playfully vengeful idea crept into her consciousness. "Also, I think that you've gained a little weight in the last few weeks, as your trousers need to be let out, and I've informed Gwen. And while we're on the subject of weight gain, do you remember that night we spent together while we were searching for the dragon egg?" Still Arthur had yet to look at her, and so she went on brightly, "I'm pregnant, Arthur. I think it's twins, could be triplets, they do run in my family you know. And yes, before-"

Arthur's head whipped around faster than a Sidhe, and he gawked, squawking out "Wait. You're _**WHAT?**_"

A vicious glee tore through her. "So you _are_listening to me."

Her king's hands came up to grasp her shoulders, and he demanded, "What did you say?"

"I said, 'I'm pregnant, Arthur.'" Her comparatively implacable voice set Arthur's teeth to grinding before she grinned mischievously, "Don't worry,_ Sire_. I was only joking."

In the time it took for her slight perfidy to register, Merlin danced lithely out of his hold and began to head back toward the castle. "Hey – where do you think you're going?"

His maidservant called jocularly over her shoulder, "I was joking about being cursed with your sprog, not about your dire need of a bath. Come on Arthur, or the water will be cold, and you'll fuss and tell me it's_ my_fault."

Infuriated, the king of Camelot gave chase.


	2. Every Action

Arthur looked up at the unexpected opening of his door only to see a surprisingly grim Gwaine striding toward his desk. Raising an eyebrow, Arthur enquired, "I suppose it's too much to hope that you might knock before bursting into my chambers. What is it? Has the tavern run out of ale?"

Gwaine kept coming, completely ignoring the king's jibes.

Stopping right in front of the desk, Gwaine placed one hand on the beautifully crafted wood and the other on the palm of his sword and leaned forward. "Do you know what I heard on the practice field today?"

Arthur searched his mind, and could only conclude that the generally carefree knight was referring to Merlin's ridiculous prank from the afternoon. He had sent her to muck out the stables and polish every last piece of his practice armor and his ceremonial armor in retaliation. So far as he knew, she was still out in the armory paying for her little stunt.

Setting aside his quill, Arthur sat back in his chair and nodded. "I think it quite safe to say she will not be making that mistake again."

He watched Gwaine's lips twist into a dangerous smile. "It's not Merlin you should be worrying about. Because if I ever hear of you two spending anymore nights together, king of Camelot or not, I will run you through."

They stared each other down, and Arthur told him, "She wouldn't let that happen, and if you somehow managed to do it anyway, she would never forgive you."

"Well, you see, I'm not particularly worried about having her forgiveness. All I care about is that she is safe, healthy, and reasonably happy. You haven't proposed, she still helps you dress and cleans up your messes. So until you man up and marry her, consider Merlin off-limits. I promise you that I am not the only one who will be watching you from now on, princess. Percival and Elyan both went to sharpen their swords after practice, and I heard Merlin saying that after she finishes with her chores tonight, Gaius is sending her out to find some rare poisonous herb. Think about that the next time you feel like you can't shake the urge, alright?" With that, Gwaine swept out of the room as swiftly as he came, leaving Arthur to try and focus once more on the missive he had been writing to King Lot.

Later that night, Merlin stumbled in, visibly exhausted. "Remind me never to mistake you for someone who can take a joke, you miserable cabbage head. I haven't been this sore and tired in ages."

"Yes, I heard about the little herb-gathering errand Gaius sent you on." Arthur strove for a casual tone, and thought he succeeded reasonably well.

Merlin rubbed a hand over her face and began to walk around the desk, sitting on the very edge. She put a hand on the arm Arthur had resting on the side of his chair and said, "I was thinking I might sleep here tonight, since I'm so tired and all."

Arthur's eyes widened and he gently dislodged her light touch. Swallowing, he shook his head and told her, "You know, I think I'll dress myself for bed tonight. Why don't you head back to Gaius'?"

Merlin's brow scrunched up. "Is this because of what I did earlier? Arthur, I never meant to upset you that much."

"What? No! No, it has nothing to do with that. I just want to wait for… certain things… until we wed." He cursed himself for unintentionally putting that wounded expression on her face, but what else could he do? Gwaine may be laid back about most things, but the man would go to hell and back for Merlin, and in order to save them all considerable grief, Arthur was going to do his best not to further provoke his protective instincts.

"I don't get it, Arthur. You're fine with a quick tumble in a tent, but when we're actually in the kingdom, you can't get past your royal sense of propriety?"

Were those actual tears in her eyes? "Look, I should never have let things get so out of hand that night –"

"So you regret it, then?" He felt helpless as Merlin leapt nimbly off of the desk and balled her fists up at her sides.

"Merlin, no! That's not what I'm saying at all."

She sniffled and bit out, "Well then I must be even more tired than I thought." As she headed for the door, she threw back, "From now on, I'm sending George to handle dressing you, because clearly, it's not proper for me to do it."

The door slammed shut and Arthur put his head in his hands. "I can't win."

The next morning, Merlin found a ring sitting on her bedside table and fought to keep down a victorious whoop.

She jumped out of bed and began preparing to greet the day brimming with euphoria. Finally, the clotpole had worked up the courage to propose. Gwaine's plan was a stroke of brilliance.

Then, sickening, she plopped ubruptly back on the bed and wondered how she was going to tell Arthur about her magic.

Gwaine's plan hadn't said anything about dealing with that.


	3. Has an Opposite and Equal Reaction

Eying the mutable blue sphere hovering above Merlin's hand, Arthur felt the edges of his sanity begin fraying. "You, Merlin?"

Her blues eyes, so deceptively innocent, stared at him imploringly. "Surely you know I never meant to hurt you – why else would I have stayed here all these years? I wash your laundry – I even muck out your stables while the stable boys watch and laugh. You have to see that –"

"What I see, Merlin, is that you have been lying to me from day one. You made me love you, waited until I put a ring on your finger to finally tell me the truth. What am I supposed to think about all of this? How can I possibly know that I haven't been enchanted all these years? You were going to be my queen. Was that your goal all along?" He watched with bitter satisfaction as her cheeks lost all color and her gaze became obstructed by tears.

"Arthur – no, I would never – it's never been about that for me! All I have ever wanted was to keep you safe. I've lied to you, yes, but only to protect you." Her voice cracked in several places, and she held a hand out to him, registering in horror the way that he took a step back.

"Were you glad, Merlin?" He felt cold inside – people who thought anger burned hot had never felt anger such as this. He had been on campaigns where the temperatures were so frigid it was like a frozen fire consumed him and his men - so was his fury now.

"What?" All the rest of her breath left with her stunned query.

"When my father died. Were you glad?" He wielded each word like a dagger, aiming straight for her deceitful heart, and observing as one by one, they met their mark.

She stumbled and sat hard upon the icy stone floor of his chamber, stunned and disoriented. This was not how it was supposed to happen. She had planned on walking in, wearing his ring and accepting his proposal – both of which had gone splendidly – and then calmly and quietly revealing her magic. Yes, she knew it would be uncomfortable; how could it be otherwise, after so many years of concealing the truth? She simply had not imagined that he would react so horribly, would possibly believe her capable of such a thing.

She looked up into the livid face of her lover – her king – and saw nothing of Arthur. This was Uther's son.

Closing her eyes against the savage expression before her, she whispered, "Do it quickly."

The pressure in the room shifted immediately, and it was Arthur's turn to ask, "What?"

"If you're going to kill me, Sire, then I want it to be your sword, and I want you to do it quickly." In the tense seconds that followed, Merlin waited for the deadly song of unleashed steel, but it never came. Instead, a soft thud indicated that Arthur now knelt before her, a possibility confirmed by the hands which came up to cradle her head. Her eyes flew open and she gazed at him uncomprehending.

"Merlin… you are many things to me – irritating, clumsy, noisy, overly opinionated," he paused and his eyes softened, "beautiful, funny, occasionally brilliant – but you are never disposable. Am I angry? Absolutely. It's an emotion you have a surprising talent for provoking in me, and I highly doubt that will ever change. You know me. You know I tend to speak things I do not mean when confronted with things I am not prepared to face. I cannot promise you that it will never happen again, but I can promise that I will never lay a hand on you." Here, he gave a half-grin, half-grimace and told her, "I have it on good authority that at least three knights of Camelot and one very old, very learned physician are lying in wait for the moment when they must step in and deal out justice for any wrongs done to you, so rest assured, I will be on my guard against any untoward behavior."

She snuffled out a laugh and said wetly, "Do you need me to have a talk with them? I know they can be a little overzealous sometimes."

Arthur assumed a thoughtful air. "You know, I don't think you should. I rather like the thought of my men being willing to do what it takes to protect their queen."

"But earlier, you said…" Though her brow was scrunched, her voice was hopeful.

Arthur used his thumbs to lovingly wipe the moisture from her cheeks and pressed his forehead against her own. "Yes, well, I was reminded rather vividly this morning of why I prefer it when you help me put on or remove my clothes, and since you will no longer do it as my maidservant, I rather think I must make you my queen."

Her congested snort was impossible to contain. "George is driving you 'round the bend, isn't he?" She would have to see to it that the dutifll servant received a pay raise - he always came through in a pinch.

"You have no idea."

"I suppose I'll just have to marry you then, won't I?" He might have believed her reluctance, but for the delighted upturn of her lips and the return of her rosy cheeks.

"Yes, I suppose you will."


	4. An Object In Motion

Merlin moved about her room, tidying up and considering which items to take with her when she moved into Arthur's chambers.

She listened with satisfaction to the sounds of everyday life in Camelot and said a silent prayer of thanks for her stubborn nature. Arthur had mentioned something about throwing a tournament in honor of their engagement, and she had firmly instructed him not to make her life harder by putting his own at risk out of some sort of misplaced romantic sentiment.

Besides, she could watch Arthur swing swords at people any given day of the week - why waste everyone's time with a tournament when she could simply nip down to the practice field? She glanced up from the pair of pants she was folding as she felt a presence come up behind her. When she turned around, her entire body relaxed, and she wondered if she was becoming paranoid.

Lithe and darkly handsome, Gwaine lounged against her door frame, the sunny smile on his face belying the danger of his appearance. "So, I found this in the marketplace this morning, and it made me think of you." He proffers a smoky purple sash which she accepts curiously, feeling the luxurious fabric – as well as the spell laid into the fibers. Perhaps she was not so paranoid after all.

"Thank you! Do you mind if I ask which stall you bought it from? In case I decide I want another one in blue or maybe red?" _Clever Morgana._ Very clever – and just a day after having accepted Arthur's proposal. The other woman was nothing if not efficient. How could she have snuck this into the market though… unless…

An idea began forming, and she decided to let the magic be for a while.

"That old lady, I think her name's… Agatha, or something. Anyway, I figured it could be an early wedding present. A small one, at least, since me and the boys have something bigger in mind."

She eyed Gwaine, slightly concerned. "Right. What is it the three of you have been so secretive about?"

"Well, it wouldn't be much of a secret if I told you now, would it?" He reached out and pulled her close, placing a swift buss on her forehead. "I'm off, Merlin – I need to see a man about a bet I made."

"Am I going to need to bring you a spare set of trousers when I join you down at the tavern later?" Not that she especially minded seeing him in only his smalls, but she was going to be a married woman soon enough, and the fit Arthur had thrown over one of his knights publicly disgracing himself had been enough of a headache the last time so… it was in everyone's best interest if she came prepared.

He waved a hand carelessly – she would never understand how he made even that action graceful, but it was utterly unfair – and told her, "Don't you worry about that – I won the bet and it was over ale, not clothing this time." He strode toward the door and called back, "I'm glad you like the sash, Merlin. Purple really is the best color on you."

Bemused, she fingered the sash in question and continued trying to predict Morgana's next move.

She realized what it was that night at dinner, after a long and pleasant evening spent in the pub with Gwaine who had not, she was happy to note, lost his shirt and trousers.

Agravaine handed Gwaine a goblet of wine, smirking far too smarmily to be innocent– not, Merlin acknowledged, that Arthur's uncle ever was. She caught Gwaine's attention when the slimy noble's back was turned, signaling for him to put the cup down.

Raising an eyebrow, Gwaine obeyed without question, an act which she greatly appreciated; she was the only one he ever actually listened to, and she knew how much of a gift his unwavering loyalty was.

Waiting for sufficient time to have passed for everyone to believe Gwaine needed more to drink, which admittedly was not all that long, she casually placed a different cup in front of him and absconded with the enchanted one. Agravaine, the pompous, self-assured idiot, never noticed a thing.

Then again, neither did anyone else.

It took hardly any time at all to set everything up and call their friends together in the council room.

Now all they only needed to wait.

Gwaine came over to stand by her and hand her a cup of wine – unadulterated, since Merlin had asked Gaius to check their supply and the cups they planned to use. "Where's the princess? Shouldn't he be here by now?"

"Don't worry – he'll be here soon enough." She fingered the now unenchanted purple sash tied at her waist and kept her eyes on the entrance.

Not long after, two figures strode in, and while one looked around at the group of knights and his maidservant appreciatively, the other looked as though he had swallowed one of the court physician's foulest concoctions. "What's all this?"

Merlin passed her wine back to Gwaine and strode forward, taking her king's hands and smiling beatifically. "It's your – well, our – stag night." She looked over at a fuming Agravaine and told him, "Thank you so much for dragging him out of bed so that he could be here. I've been so busy with the preparations that I just haven't had the time. Will you join us?"

She watched was Agravaine attempted to school his face into a more solicitous expression before he replied, "Oh, I couldn't possibly. I'm far too old to stay up all night the way you youngsters do. In fact, I think I'll turn in now."

"I'm sorry to hear that – I do hope you sleep well. It wouldn't do for you to be falling asleep during your nephews' wedding, after all." As he turned to leave, she called out in a saccharinely sweet voice, "Oh, Agravaine – how do you like my new sash? Gwaine gave it to me as an early wedding present. Isn't it lovely?"

A spasm of what she could only call hatred passed over his face so quickly that only she could see it. "It's beautiful, Merlin. Purple suits you." He stalked out like a beast denied its prey and Merlin looked back at Arthur.

"I'm sorry your uncle doesn't want to join us, but you are not getting out of our stag night, Arthur."

Arthur shook his head, "How is this a stag night if you're here?"

"I'm not about to miss a chance to get a bit tipsy before I'm shackled to you forever just because I'm a woman. And while we're on the subject of all things feminine… I'm not wearing a dress, Arthur."

Arthur blinked down at her and said, "Yes, I can see that, Merlin, I'm not blind."

Huffing, Merlin tried again, "I'm glad to hear it – saving your life would be even more exhausting if you were. What I meant was: I'm not wearing a dress to the wedding. I refuse." How was she supposed to protect Arthur if she was stuck in some flouncy thing she could barely walk in?

"Alright…" Arthur couldn't really see how this was his problem. Merlin had been dressing herself for years. "As long you actually show up, Merlin, I really don't care what you wear."

Lips thinning into a small line, Merlin bit out, "Tell that to Gwen."

"Is she still trying to turn you into a lady?" He sounded far too amused by that fact.

"_Yes_. It doesn't matter how many times I've told her I'm a lost cause."

"Don't worry Merlin – I'm sure one day you'll convince her."


	5. Tends to Stay in Motion

**Okay, this piece references a character from _Eye of the Phoenix_ - does everyone remember Grettir? Oh, good. He's my proof that magical dwarves exist in Camelot, in case anyone gets curious. The precious metal I mention here is shamelessly borrowed from J.R.R. Tolkien's imagination. In spite of the fact that I'm borrowing lore from another fandom, I have sort of tried to put my on twist on it. Just so that we're clear: there will not be any elves, and our heroine has nothing in common with either Aragorn, Frodo, or Beowulf.**

Ensconced in the Lady Morgana's old room, her wardrobe open and dresses strewn across every flat surface, two women fought to have the last word.

"No."

"It's traditional –"

"And that matters to me because?"

"Arthur might apprecia-"

"Arthur decided to marry a servant. In fact, he decided to marry _this_servant. If he wanted someone who respected traditions, he probably should have agreed to marry – well, no I don't suppose Elana would care all that much about traditions either," Merlin mused to herself.

Desperate, Gwen made one last attempt, "Merlin, if you only wear a dress once in your entire life-"

"I wore one as a disguise once, gathering information for Arthur." Merlin sniffed. "It was nearly impossible to get away with that thing on, once Bayard's men finally realized who I was. And the _shoes_, Gwen. Why must noblewomen wear such_ ridiculous_shoes? Besides, I refuse to wear one of Morgana's old dresses on my wedding day, no matter how much it would spite her if she ever found out."

Her companion peered at her cautiously, "That's not partly why you're doing this, is it?"

"Tying myself to an idiot for all eternity?" Ignoring the fact that they were already eternally tied by other things, Merlin scoffed, "Why on earth would I allow anything related to Morgana to dictate my actions? No, I could never be convinced to marry someone so stubborn and rude and supercilious and –" she caught Gwen's unimpressed expression and finished, "unless I loved him completely."

Hopeful, Gwen pressed, "So completely, that you might be persuaded to wear a dress?"

"No."

Throwing her hands up in the air, Gwen twirled to face the door, only to see three young men filing in, the last one – who also happened to be her younger brother – carrying a bag of something reverently. "What are you three doing in here? The bride is wearing nothing but a shift, and you're supposed to be making sure that the groom isn't losing his breakfast."

Behind her, Merlin scoffed and muttered, "Thanks, Gwen. You're a dear thing, truly. Greatest female best friend ever."

Percival and Elyan snickered, but Gwaine took it upon himself to make amends, "I doubt she was talking about how the princess feels toward you, Gorgeous . As to your other concern, Gwen: Leon is with Arthur, mostly trying to keep George from driving our groom to distraction. Anyway, we brought something that might help with your state of undress ," Gwen pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a heavily put-upon sigh, seeing defeat from a mile away, "and it might also help answer some questions you've had lately, regarding all the time the three of us have spent holed up together in the forge."

Intrigued, Merlin moved forward, heedless of her inappropriately lacking attire. "What did you have in mind?"

Elyan walked over toward the table and began removing pieces of what must have been some kind of metal one by one, at last pulling out what had to be the lightest chainmail Merlin had ever seen. "I made friends with a lot of unusual people during my travels. Once, I wound up helping to save a group of dwarves when their mine caved in. They told me that they would do anything for me if I ever needed their help." He glanced at his sister before continuing, "When you were hurt protecting Arthur from the dorocha a few months back, we decided it was time for you to have some form of protection, since you're so determined to place yourself in harm's way."

"You have dwarf friends?" Merlin asked, caught off guard.

Percival, unused to Merlin reacting with anything less than enthusiasm toward new people – unless they tried to harm Arthur – voiced his confusion, "Is there something wrong with dwarves?"

Distracted by memories, Merlin responded vaguely, "Something wrong with – oh, no. It's just, I've met a dwarf, and he was rather… unusual."

"You only met the one dwarf?" At Merlin's nod, Elyan elaborated, "That would be the problem, then. Dwarves rely on social contact, perhaps even more than humans do. If the dwarf you met was consistently on his own, he was probably pretty bad off."

Gwaine jumped in at this point. "Come to think of it, he is the only dwarf I've ever met on his own."  
>Bringing them back to their original purpose, he asked prodded Merlin, "You remember when I annoyed the princess enough that he ordered me to check on the border patrol – in person?"<p>

"Absolutely – I've never been prouder of a pupil in my life." Merlin stared up at the ceiling philosophically. "Except perhaps George."

Gwaine let the dig about George – the ingratiating little weasel – slide. "I was actually going to meet with Elyan's dwarf friends, because they'd sent word that the mithril was ready."

"Wait – the mithril was ready, not the armor?" Merlin turned to face Elyan incredulously. "You made me armor? From mithril? Only the dwarves know how to craft with such a precious metal. How did you…?"

Visibly struggling to remain unselfconscious, he admitted, "The dwarves may have taught me some of their craft while I was with them. Anyway, there's a sword, too." Elyan removed the best piece last, a beautifully crafted, perfectly balanced blade. Merlin accepted the sword, reveling in the dwarf magic thrumming in her hands, in the way it fit her better than an old pair of shoes or a well-loved cloak.

Eyes shining, she glanced at Gwen, who could not even pretend to be frustrated in the face of such naked joy. "Yes, alright. I'm still going to do your hair."

Standing with both of her hands clasped in Arthur's, Merlin had never felt more comfortable in her own skin, or more loved. Elyan's craftsmanship was flawless, and the look in Arthur's eyes as she had walked toward him what felt like seconds ago, was one she would carry with her for the rest of her life.

As Geoffrey droned on, something occurred to Merlin, and she leaned forward to whisper, "I wasn't."  
>Arthur's eyebrows came together sharply, "You weren't… what?"<p>

"Glad. When your father died. I _wasn't_," she clarified fervently.

Closing his eyes slowly, Arthur told her, "Thank you, Merlin. That means a great deal. But could you not have chosen a better moment to let me know?"

"Well, we've been so busy getting things ready for the wedding, and we were up so late with the boys last night – there just hasn't been enough time. Besides, I couldn't let you marry me thinking I was happy when your father died." Leaving something so important unsaid between them would have been awful.

"Did you really have to do it when we had an audience?" At his prompting, Merlin at last took note of the rustling and chatter of the people gathered. Odd, that. Normally she was hyper aware of everything going on around her, in the not-so-off chance that someone might want to harm her king.

When she drew her attention back to Arthur though, he was not looking out at the courtiers, knights, and castle staff.

He was looking at, "What, him? It's just Geoffrey."

"Just Geoffrey?" Arthur hissed. "He and Gaius gossip worse than that pair of old maids who used to coo at us whenever we passed in the market!"

She allowed a snort to escape at the reminder of the two old biddies who clucked and fawned over how adorable she and Arthur were, before they finally figured out how they felt. Then, a throat cleared off to the side and they looked from the court librarian and back to each other, embarrassed. Biting her lip, Merlin suggested, "I suppose we ought to see this through."

Arthur tilted his head to the side. "Well, Guinevere did put a lot of effort into your hair."

Not truly indignant, she still felt compelled to demand, "How do you know I didn't do it?"

"_Mer_lin."

"Right, sorry." Behaving once more, she told Geoffrey, "Please, carry on."

Afterwards, Merlin would remember to be thankful that they managed to finish the ceremony before Morgana burst in, even finding the time for Arthur to place the golden circlet they had finally agreed on yesterday, "I'm not wearing a crown, Arthur, no matter what anyone says. Nothing that restricts my movements, and _that_ enormous thing _definitely_would restrict my movements," upon her brow.

For now, as the front door burst open, she was thoroughly unsurprised, and incredibly pissed off.

Arthur's half-sister cried out, "Hleap on bæc," aiming straight for Merlin and Arthur, as well as the ancient court librarian standing innocently behind them.

Holding out a hand, Merlin's eyes flashed gold, and she called out, "You know, you're rather unoriginal, Morgana. Next time, try something a little less predictable."

Enraged, Morgana shrieked the spell again, and Merlin countered it, throwing her against the far wall. Stalking toward her, Merlin ignored the many others who stood gaping, frozen by the tableau.

Features drawn, Morgana's eyes swept the room, and she chose her next target. "As you wish."

A choking sound stopped Merlin's heart. Even distorted and gasping, she knew that voice. "Gaius!" Showing Morgana her back for an instant, she barely registered when the vengeful creature fled, victorious even in the face of unexpected resistance.

Merlin's feet pounded against stone in time to her restarted heart. Throwing herself down beside her beloved mentor, she put her ear to his chest and listened to the agonizingly sluggish muscle within.

For once, the powers of the Old Religion were kind, and the wizened old man's eyes opened as his breathing evened, and his heart rate rose. Covering her mouth to stifle a relieved sob, she ran her other hand through his white hair and felt a larger, stronger hand stroke through her own, which had come out of its elaborate design in the fray. Merlin hoped in some distant, hysterical part of her mind that Gwen would forgive her for ruining all her hard work.

She swallowed around the painful knot still lodged in her throat, and tore her hungry gaze from Gaius' own, slightly hazy one, to let her new husband know, "He'll live."

Gently kneading the skin of her neck, Arthur spoke out into the silent hall, "Ladies and gentlemen of the court, people of Camelot, allow me to present to you Merlin Pendragon, Queen and Court Sorceress of Camelot."

In the chaos of questions and panic and aborted congratulations, Merlin's eyes met Arthur's and she said, "That… could have gone much better."

Shrugging, Arthur reminded her, "Or much worse. Do you remember my twenty-first birthday?"

She winced in sympathy. "I do. Which reminds me – how would you feel about pulling a sword out of a stone?"

Used to dealing with her odd thought patterns, Arthur simply enquired, "I finally married you, did I not?"

Staring down at the ring upon her finger, and feeling the now-warm circlet on her brow, Merlin replied, "It does seem that way."

"Pulling a sword out of stone should be practically effortless after that." In spite of the eye roll and the light slap to the thigh this earned –

He was right.


	6. Unless Acted Upon

Merlin tilted her head to the side, giggling breathily, and as Arthur leaned down to her exposed neck, she tensed. Extricating herself from the lap of her thoroughly bewildered husband, she retrieved her sword belt, preparing to leave.

As she was about to go, Arthur found his voice. "Merlin? What on earth are you doing?"

"There's someone in the vault. I'm going to find whoever it is and politely," unawares, she rested her hand on her scabbard, "ask him – or her – to leave."

Sounding as if he wasn't entirely certain he wanted to know, Arthur enquired, "How do you know there's someone in the vault?"

"He tripped my warding spell," Merlin replied distractedly, realizing something was missing and consequently searching for the blade which actually went with the belt, spotting it on the table.

"Your what?"

"Oh, um – it's a spell that lets me know if someone breaks into the vault. I have them on all the secret passages into the castle, as well."

Confused, Arthur demanded, "Why did you not say something when whoever is in the vault entered the castle?"

Making an attempt to leave, she told him, "None of the other wards were tripped –"

"So you're saying that whoever it was entered through one of the other entrances?"

Giving up on the thought of departing for the vault immediately, she turned back to answer her husband. "No, what I'm saying is that whoever is in the vault was already in the castle."

"Our traitor is in the vault? And you were just going to do this on your own?" Arthur leapt out of bed and yanked on the trousers he wore earlier that day and grabbed his own scabbard, Excalibur already sheathed within.

"That was the idea, yeah. Although, now I'm thinking about it, I don't like the thought of leaving you alone while he or she is loose in the castle." Merlin berated herself mentally. She was so accustomed to doing whatever necessary to protect her secret that she had not even considered the possibility of bringing someone along. The last time she had an accomplice on a task like this, she was journeying to the veil with Lancelot. Or – well, she supposed that was not quite right. Gwaine had helped her to find Gaius not too long ago, but even though they were close friends, nothing had been the same; no one had known her the way Lancelot once did.

Now, everyone knew, and she was still acclimatizing herself to the sometimes wary, sometimes admiring glances the denizens of the kingdom sent her way.

The first time an elderly woman approached her and burst into tears of gratitude for returning magic to Camelot, Merlin had initially frozen, and then she embraced the woman whilst shedding several tears of her own. After that, she handled unexpected outpourings of appreciation with more grace, but even a month later, she still felt twitchy about performing magic in front of other people.

"Shouldn't I be the one saying that to you?" And clearly, Merlin wasn't the only one still struggling with the recent changes. Arthur, used to being the one to provide protection, no matter how illusionary, had trouble understanding that Merlin was perfectly capable of taking care of herself.

Running a hand through her disarrayed tresses, Merlin used her free hand to open the door. "If you want to, I'm sure there's not stopping you. However, if you wouldn't mind saying it on our way to the vault, that would be lovely – we're wasting time," with that, she left their chambers, Arthur following hot on her heels.

The trip to the vault was silent, save for the sounds of their feet and rapid breathing.

When they arrived at the entrance to the vault, Arthur tried to put Merlin behind himself, but she would have none of it. "Arthur, of the two of us, I'm the only one with magic. I'm sure this wounds your manly pride somehow, but please move out of the way." Without waiting for a response, she opened the (unlocked) door and made her way toward the shadowy figure in the royal vault, already making its way back toward the door.

Upon seeing the king and queen, the figure started, body still as a statue but for the head with turned this way and that, searching for a way out.

"Hello there. Lovely night to commit treason. Would you mind very much not running? It's just, I was kind of in the middle of something before you decided to break into the vault and I'd like to get back to it as soon as possible." Merlin watched as the traitor came to a decision, making a swiftly stymied attempt for the door. She walked over and pulled down the hood covering the face of –"Lord Agravaine. I thought you didn't care much for late nights. Or are you only a night owl when Morgana sends for you?"

Arthur made a strangled gasp behind her, and Merlin felt her heart sink into her toes. Perhaps she should have left him in their chambers after all. "Uncle? Please tell me that this is not what it looks like."

Ever the opportunist, Agravaine hastened to reassure him, "Arthur, of course it's not, I was only passing through when I saw that the door to the vault was opened. I came in to confront the intruder myself, but he'd already gone."

Shaking her head, Merlin ordered, "Give me the scroll, _my Lord_."

"What scroll? The scroll the intruder took? Obviously I cannot, your Highness. It is gone." Agravaine was good – almost too good. She could see Arthur starting to doubt his first assessment of the situation, and anger caused her magic to stir within.

Her eyes glowing with restrained power, she said again, "Give me the scroll," and allowed the _or else_ to hang in the air between them.

Agravaine glanced from her golden gaze to the conflicted eyes of her husband, and he hesitated. "Arthur, surely you can't think I would –"

"I don't know _what_ to think, Uncle," Arthur admitted rather croakily. "But I would suggest either proving my wife wrong or handing over the scroll."

Seeing no other options, Agravaine reached into the folds of his tunic and produced the siege scroll, causing Arthur to close his eyes and swallow roughly.

Wishing to spare Arthur the death of another relative, no matter how traitorous, Merlin said stonily, "Leave. Leave, and never come back."

"Or?" Agravaine tested.

"Oh, I think you know," Merlin whispered darkly.

Agravaine nodded, and moved as if to comply. As he passed Arthur, however, he twisted, lunging toward his nephew and revealing a knife. In the next second, he lay on the floor, temple bloodied from where it struck one of the shelves on the wall Merlin's spell blasted him into, and the life leaving his eyes.

When he breathed his last, Merlin turned from Agravaine to Arthur, who stared at the shell of his uncle sightlessly. "I'm so sorry, Arthur. I never meant for you to find out like this."

Snapping out of his dazed state, Arthur asked, "Wait – you _knew_?"

Cautious, Merlin stepped closer and placed a hand on his cheek, lightly at first, and then more firmly when Arthur made no move to withdraw. "I've known for a while now, yes."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Though he posed the question, he sounded as though he already suspected her reasoning.

"I didn't think you would believe me – I tried to tell you when Agravaine accused Gaius, but you didn't want to hear it, and then I didn't see the point." She glanced back at the body and suggested, "Why don't we find a guard or two to take care of that, and then we can go back to our chambers. I'm sure it'll still be here to deal with in the morning."

Bleak laughter was followed by, "Thanks, but I'm not really in the mood anymore, Merlin."

She swatted his arm with her other hand, and though she felt grateful he could still attempt to find some humor in the situation, she retorted, "I meant to sleep, clot pole. Killing people doesn't really do it for me, either."

"Hardly surprising. You still try to scare away game whenever we sneak out of the castle." His pitiful imitation of annoyance made them both laugh, and if it sounded slightly hysterical? No one else was around to hear.


	7. By an Outside Force

**And this is the part where we throw canon out the window. Considering the way the last few episodes of the season went, I can't say I'm too sad about that. Anyway, this thing has kind of taken on a life of its own. Initially, I was planning on writing three, maybe four parts. _Hah_. Like that was ever actually going to happen.**

"Your men are gathered and I grow tired of waiting. Why do you still hesitate?" The madness which once glimmered on occasion in Morgana's eyes had now become a constant and steady blaze.

Helios observeed her and remained outwardly unaffected, replying calmly, "I will not risk my entire army on a suicide campaign. Your contact is dead and we still do not have the plans you promised."

Her face twisted into a mask of bitter hatred. "Yes, he is dead. Murdered by that liar, that cheat. Even now, she sits upon my throne. I will not have it, Helios. The time for waiting is over."

Shaking his head, Helios sighed expansively. "No, Morgana. We cannot strike against Camelot without some sort of guarantee. Be patient. Something will come."

"You've grown weak." She sneered at him, eying his perfect health, his unlined face. "I refuse to work with a coward. I believe it is time to seek an ally more worthy." Spinning on her heel, she left him with these parting words, "We could have been grand, Helios. We could have ruled Camelot, together. Now you'll have to sit on the sidelines, and watch as I take what is mine while someone else stands by my side."

Helios stared after her and felt as though he had dodged a poisoned arrow. Let her share her bile with someone else – eventually she would come to choke on it. The thought pained him – when they first met, she held such potential.

Washing his hands of the entire affair, he set out to find some less volatile feminine company for the night.

As she opened the two great doors to Nemeth's council chambers, Morgana's thoughts turned to her sister, capable of such stealth, but fond of a show whenever possible. She decided Morgause would have enjoyed this, as every single voice in the room silenced and the men turned as one to stare at her, dressed for the first time in a year in a silk gown, her hair shining and elegantly coiffed.

"What is the meaning of this? Who dares to burst into a council meeting unsought and unannounced?" King Matthias was a handsome man for his age, though given to turning a violent shade of purple when enraged, as he clearly was now.

Inclining her head and gazing at him from under lowered eyelashes, Morgana declared, "I am the Lady Morgana, and I come to you with a proposal I believe you will not wish to refuse, my Lord."  
>"Lady Morgana?" His expression hardened, and he demanded, "What do you want with me, Witch?"<br>"I want to give us what we both want, my Lord: long have you been denied your rightful claim over Gedref, and long have I been denied my throne. I have heard the whispers and seen the signs, King Matthias, and Nemeth stands on the cusp of war with Camelot." Her feline eyes examined him, and she probed, "Arthur was to marry your daughter, was he not? And yet he married a peasant girl – such a slight cannot be borne, surely?"

"From what I have been told, Queen Merlin is no mere peasant girl: she is a witch, like you." She strove to conceal the wince the well-aimed blow of her enemy's name incited. Age had not lessened the keenness of King Matthias' mind, a fact which Morgana regretted. Men were so much easier to manipulate when their senses were dulled by time or absorbed by the thrill of bloodlust.

No matter; she would win this game regardless. "Which means, my Lord, that if you wish to have any hope of a victory over Camelot, you will need a witch on your side."

King Matthias steeped his fingers and peered at her closely. "Why would you need my kingdom to take control of Camelot, Witch? And why should I trust you?"

"I am but one woman, my Lord, and though I am powerful, you cannot think me foolish enough to take on an entire kingdom single-handed. As for why you should trust me – why should I lie to you? Gedref is of no interest to me. I swear to you, if you accept my help, then when we defeat Camelot, the land you so desire is yours, and our kingdoms shall be friends from thereafter." She laid on all of her charm, grateful for once for all her years at court.

Narrowing his eyes, King Matthias considered her offer carefully. It was true that war with Camelot was imminent – the council meeting the Witch had walked into centered on supplies for the army, as well as who among the older lords would lead Nemeth's soldiers and knights against the other kingdom. He, himself, would be staying. Though it pained him, his eldest son had at last managed to convince him that his age would be a danger on the battlefield, and his wisdom was needed here in their own lands. It would set his mind at ease to know that someone with intimate knowledge of Camelot's king and his closest advisors was with his men on the field of battle, especially when he could not be with them.

Hoping he was not sealing the fate of the many young men who would fight for him and for the kingdom they held dear, he nodded at last to the Witch, and bade her, "Come, then. Tell us all you can of Camelot's young king and queen."

Merlin snuck out of the bed quietly and barely made it to the chamber pot in time before she revisited her meal from the night before. Wiping her mouth, she banished the putrid contents of the pot and took up the goblet she now kept in their chambers for rinsing in the mornings. She glanced over at Arthur and noted his still-slumbering form, smiling at how he sprawled across the mattress, sheets rumpled on his two thirds of the bed. She sobered at the memory of the missive which arrived two days prior, a declaration of war with Nemeth.

She had been planning to tell Arthur about the baby the night the letter reached them, wishing to give him something to help him heal after the unveiled betrayal of his uncle several weeks ago, but now it would have to wait; if Arthur knew, there was no way he would let her anywhere near that battlefield, and she could not allow anything to separate them when his life could be in danger. She went to stand before the window, looking out at the city the way Arthur did whenever stressed, and found the familiar sights and sounds soothing.

It was not until the door came open behind her that she realized she had been rubbing a hand over her currently flat stomach. Her hand stilled, and she twirled to face George, who had brought her morning cup of tea. She whispered a soft, "Thank you, George," and watched as he bowed and then departed, no doubt returning to the kitchens for the tray of food she could no longer stand to smell until the herbal tea had settled her belly.

Sipping the hot liquid slowly, she fought with her conscience, telling it at last to _shut up_, and that she would come clean after she found a way to solve this conflict with their neighboring kingdom.

Mithian stood tall and proud beside her father, watching the sons of Nemeth depart. She felt his arm wrap warmly about her shoulders, and leaned into him, soaking in the affection she would not again receive for quite some time. "I am glad to have you with me, my daughter, as your brother goes off to war."

She reached up to gently squeeze his hand, and said only, "I love you, father."

The next morning, after making the journey with her morning meal, her maidservant sent the entire castle into an uproar.

Princess Mithian was gone.

Prince Matthew stilled outside his tent, straining his ears to catch once more the whisper of fabric and light footfalls on dry grass. The sound was coming from right – there! He pounced, capturing the intruder from behind and hearing a feminine, _"Oomph!"_as they both crashed to the earth.

With a cry, he let the miscreant go. "Mithian, I could have _killed_you! What are you doing here?" He examined his little sister in the darkness, illuminated only by the scattered fires of the men keeping watch. "Wait a minute, are you wearing armor? No. No, you cannot join us. Father would never forgive me if you were killed and I could have prevented it."

"I'm sorry to put you at odds with father, but I will not return home. I am the best archer you have, and you need me." He might have considered it arrogance, but for the matter-of-fact way the words were spoken, and because she told the truth.

Unfortunately, that would not save her on the battlefield. "This isn't another hunting game. People are going to die out here."

"Which is exactly why I must stay and help," Mithian argued. "Besides, can you honestly tell me that you trust the Lady Morgana?"

"Why, because she has magic?" Glancing around the camp, the Nemethian heir led his sister into the shelter of his tent.

Situating herself on one of the cushions within, she responded, "No, because she wears her bitterness as a shroud. She wants revenge, Matthew, and I do not believe that she will hesitate to do whatever she deems necessary to achieve it." She reached out and took the hands which rested in her brother's lap into her own. "Let me stay and help you. If you wish it, I will remain with the archers through the entire campaign, but at least I will be here if Morgana attempts to lead our people astray."

Knowing at some point he would come to rue it, Matthew resigned himself to keeping an eye on his sister at all times – not from a lack of faith in her, but in anyone who might wish her harm. "Fine. You will stay with the archers, and to ensure it, you are going to replace Sir Tris. I will speak to him about the change in leadership in the morning."

Staring into her scrying bowl and observing the loving reunion, Morgana began to reconsider her plans.

The children of King Mathias would prove useful indeed.


	8. Gravity Works

Everyone watched Merlin bolt with a hand on her mouth as the smell of the army's breakfast filled the camp.

The one thing that saved the young queen from total humiliation was that for once, she did not trip, moving unimpeded until she reached what she was now affectionately calling The Retching Tree, located conveniently close to the tent she shared with her husband, and violently reaffirmed its namesake. In the days they spent in the camp, going over plans and waiting for their allies, it had become more and more difficult to hide her predilection for vomiting. Thankfully there had been no dizzy spells or increase in appetite, so she felt fairly confident that Arthur would remain oblivious for a while yet.

Someone's footsteps traveled closer toward her dear Retching Tree, and in her periphery, she noticed a cup of water held out in a leather-clad hand. "You're white as a sheet, Gorgeous."  
>Accepting the cup, she told her friend, "I don't think you can call me that right after I throw up in front of more than half the camp, Gwaine," and then took a small sip of the water, testing her stomach.<p>

"Hardly half, Merlin. And I can call you Gorgeous any time I want. The princess has even stopped frowning about it when I say it right in front of his face." He grinned wolfishly, causing Merlin to cautiously shake her head.

"Thank you, by the way – for the water."

Her friend examined her slowly and nodded, before suggesting, "And for not letting on about the fact that you're sort of glowing?"

Merlin froze. "You know, then?" She had been doing so well up until now.

"I've known ever since our first morning here. Really, though, stress that makes you toss your dinner every single morning? I'm surprised no one else has noticed anything odd about it. Although since you're so keen on keeping it quiet, I won't say anything," he promised, solemn for once.

The sigh of relief exploded out of her, leaving her feeling smaller and more wan than before, when the pressure forced her to stand a little taller. "You don't know how much that means to me. I know it doesn't really make sense, but I just feel like I need to be here – like something is going to go horribly wrong if I'm not a part of this. And maybe that's a fear left over from when I had to keep my magic from everyone, but I've trusted my intuition in other situations like this, and it hasn't often led me wrong."

"You're right," Gwaine acknowledged, "I can't say I really understand it. But that doesn't mean I won't respect whatever it is you feel like you need to do. So long as you realize I won't be letting you out of my sight once the fighting starts."

A swell of affection for this loyal, reckless, wonderful man rose within her, and she told him, "I know – but you would have done that anyway."

"True." Looking up, Gwaine noticed the curious eyes of the Catha's people, and he enquired, "You feel up to facing them again, or do you want me to go make up something to appease them?"

"No, I'm fine now. Want to come with me? You can annoy Arthur," she offered hopefully, wanting something to distract her overprotective husband from her still slightly pasty cheeks. "He won't even be able to say anything, since he's trying so hard to make a good impression on the magic users."

"Why Merlin, I thought you'd never ask."

"From what the Witch has told us, Camelot's queen is the most dangerous member of their army. I shoot her, and we win." Mithian finished helping Matthew with his armor and then allowed her brother to return the favor.

"You're sure that's the only reason you want to kill the queen?" He concentrated on securing her vambrace, rather than upon her face, feeling horrid for even suggesting that his sister might kill someone out of something so petty as jealousy, but his sister had never killed another person, and he wanted her to be certain that her motives were pure to prevent her from living with guilt later on.

Ever unflappable, Mithian merely waited him out, only replying once he finally drew his eyes back up to her own. "I'm certain."

Closing his eyes, he informed her, "She should be right on the front lines. Morgana believes that she will stay with the king throughout the battle, and he always leads his army from the front." Privately, Matthew rebelled against the thought of killing two honorable people over a land their kingdoms had been disputing long before they were born, but bound by loyalty to his father and his people, he was helpless to do otherwise. Though he was raised by a wise and just king, who never valued him less as an heir because of his peaceable nature, war was an inevitable part of life, and he ultimately learned the way of the sword as was his duty.

A gentle hand on his forearm brought Matthew back, and he listened to his little sister's words of comfort, grateful that she always knew what he needed. "I know how much you hate this, but someday you will be king, and you will never need to raise your sword against another unless you truly feel that your people are threatened."

"You're braver than I, you know." He watched Mithian's brow furrow. "Yes, you are. You do not even have to fight, yet here you stand, ready to risk your life for a cause neither of us believes in."

"I'm not here for some vain or noble reason, Matthew. I'm here for you."

The sun beat down upon hundreds of men of all ages, from the monarchs to the lowest peasants come to honor their kingdoms. Merlin glanced to the left and the right, taking in the long line of warriors from her chosen home and felt a bizarre wave of calm wash over her. For once, she would be able to protect Arthur and everyone else in sight without hesitation. She imagined in a moment of dark humor that Uther was rolling over in his grave, and her startled chuckle caused Arthur and Gwaine to send her twin looks of concerned confusion.

She shook her head and told them, "You had to be there."

"Where, exactly?" Arthur's query never received an answer, because at that moment, the first volley of enemy arrows arched overhead. One landed a hairsbreadth from Merlin, pulling her sharply back to reality, and their own archers responded in kind. The battle was on.

Blocking out everything but her target, Mithian aimed anew, taking a deep breath before calling, "Steady, aim… fire!" Her last arrow had barely missed its mark, but as she watched the path of this one, she knew that would not be the case this time.

The projectile made contact and she said a silent apology to the young queen, who now had an arrow protruding from her left breast.

"Merlin!" A shockwave ran through those fighting under the red and gold standard – their beloved queen had been shot.

Merlin hissed and removed the offending object from her chainmail, looking up at the countless worried faces and saying, "You're looking entirely the wrong way, you know."

Beside her, Mithian heard Morgana howl in disgusted rage, "Why won't she just die?" The Witch shrieked a spell Mithian knew nothing about and she watched as a ball of fire raced toward the woman who, had the world been a sane place, should be dead or dying on the ground right now.

"Incoming!" Merlin looked up at the warning and spotted a flying flame, and wondered why Morgana always showed up when she was least welcome before putting the fire out.

Distantly she heard the report that the archers were out of arrows, and prepared to dive into the fray, searching for Morgana in the sea of white and blue.

Drawn to each other by a force neither would ever truly understand, they met amidst the clang of steel on steel and the sickening thud of fallen men on both sides.

As they performed a deadly dance upon the field, Morgana remarked, "You're still in irritatingly good health, I see."

Merlin dodged another vicious spell, "Interestingly enough, so is Gaius. For some reason, your spells just don't seem to stick, Morgy-darling."

Morgana's face twisted, "Laugh all you want. I have one spell that will destroy you and everything you hold dear."

Affecting astonished pride, Merlin asked, "Have you been doing your homework for once?"

"I didn't have to. You see, it's not about what spell I cast, Merlin. It's about who I cast it on." She gazed across the field at the princess who she had become separated from once the chaos of war reigned supreme and began to chant.

Merlin followed her line of sight and gazed at the girl in confusion before deciding her identity didn't matter. She closed her eyes and disappeared, snatching up Morgana's intended victim and then reappearing by her trusty Retching Tree. She thrust the other woman away from her and hastily lost the meager breakfast she had managed to swallow down that morning under Arthur's anxious observation.

She registered the sound of armor moving as a body prepared to land a blow and choked out, "Do you mind waiting until I'm done? It's terribly rude to kill a woman while she's in the middle of revisiting everything she's ever had in her belly."

The movement halted, and she plopped gracelessly down upon the ground.

They stared at each other; one shocked and confused, and the other once again trying to calm her stomach. She had never liked traveling the magical way, and she had just discovered she cared for it even less whilst carting around her little Pendragon sprog.

Breaking the silence, Merlin enquired, "So, any idea why Morgana wanted you dead?" She watched the young woman turned positively ashen.

The young woman cursed and stated resignedly, "I knew my father should not have placed his faith in her. Why did you save me?"

Merlin peered closely at her as the realization hit. "Wait, you're King Matthias' daughter?"

"Yes, and you're King Arthur's wife." At Mithian's pointed look, Merlin remembered her question.

"About abducting you – I do apologize, but generally I consider anyone Morgana wants to kill on my 'Keep alive at all costs,' list, and she was definitely aiming in your direction." She held out a hand, careful to make her pure intentions clear. Mithian examined the young queen and then accepted her offered hand, shaking it and then helping to raise her up from the grass. Merlin made a snap decision. "How do you feel about unicorns?"


	9. Force Equals Mass x Acceleration

The plan had been perfect. Let the little Nemethian brats take out the royal couple of the year, and then kill them, making both armies believe that Merlin's last act was to drag her and her husband's executioners down to hell with them. Morgana would be the sole heir to Camelot's throne, and when King Mathias died of old age, she would be certain to take over Nemeth as well.

Somehow, the princess's arrow had failed, and when she attempted to cut her losses and carry out the other half of her plan, Merlin managed to get in her way yet again.

Giving both women up as a lost cause, even though it drove her mad to admit defeat at Merlin's slippery hands for the hundredth time, she cast her eyes over the battlefield, seeking the golden form of her half-brother.

He was locked in combat with a broad-shouldered brute of a man, and she moved as if to join them, only to come face to face with the Catha and several of his followers. "I do not believe Emrys would appreciate you attacking her husband, Morgana."

Inwardly wailing at the injustice of Merlin gaining such an indomitable ally, Morgana prepared to ward off Alator's first strike.

…

"Unicorns, Queen Merlin?" If Mithian was overly shocked, her dry amusement hid it well.

"Yes, unicorns – and it's just Merlin, if you don't mind," Merlin replied, slightly distracted with trying to remember the way from their camp to the site of where Arthur shot his one and only unicorn several years past.

"I do not feel one way or the other about them, as I have never met one. Why do you ask?"

Finally feeling capable of reaching the desired location, Merlin grinned at her companion. "Would you like to? Meet one, I mean? I have an idea which might interest you."

"You want me to meet a unicorn while our armies continue to destroy one another?"

"If everything works the way I want it to, we may be able to stop the war from going any further." She also wanted to give Alator a decent chance to deal with Morgana, while keeping Mithian out of the other witch's sight.

Mithian gazed pensively at the young queen before deciding that she may as well trust her – Merlin did, after all, save her life, in spite of the fact that not too long ago, Mithian attempted to end hers. "If I agree, will you tell me how you survived getting shot? I saw that arrow strike you in the chest, I know I did."

"That's simple enough." Merlin began walking off into the forest, listening as Mithian kept pace with her. "I have several overprotective knights I'm quite close to, and for some reason they object to the idea of me never wearing any protective gear, so they made me this lovely armor. It's made from mithril, a metal particular to the dwarves, and it has certain magical properties. It's very nearly indestructible."

"And the vomiting?"

Merlin grimaced, "Yes, the vomiting. Sorry about that – not a very nice way to make a first impression, although that seems to be the way it happens whenever I make friends. The first time I met Arthur, we got into a row in the middle of the market, and he actually roughed me up a bit before he realized I was not, in fact, a boy."

Mithian sent her new acquaintance a curious glance, fascinated by her tale, "He thought you were a boy?"

Embarrassed, Merlin elaborated, "The week before I first arrived in Camelot, I accidentally set fire to my best friend's home. We both got out alright, and we managed to salvage most of the house, but… my hair caught fire and after I smothered the flames, there really wasn't anything for it but to chop most of it off." She fingered her long dark strands. "I've been growing it out ever since. But that's enough about me, what about you? Without my armor, I would be dead right now, thanks to your excellent marksmanship. How does a princess come to have such skill with a bow?"

…

Arthur avoided losing his head by the grace of Gwaine's serendipitous arrival. They dispatched the beast of a man and then turned away from each other, warding off the latest contenders back to back.

Grunting and pulling his sword out of a man's left shoulder, Gwaine reported, "I thought you might like to know that your wife is missing."

"Excuse me?" Arthur ducked and parried, then landed a choice blow to his assailant.

Gwaine explained grimly, "Yeah – she and your delightful sister were having a magical catfight, and then Merlin just disappeared. I heard from Percy on my way here that she came out of thin air not too far from him, grabbed the pretty young archer who landed a shot on our girl earlier, and then they were gone."

Conversation ceased for a time, as several keen young Nemethians decided to try their luck. Arthur welcomed the distraction from the blooming panic at the knowledge that his wife was nowhere to be found, eagerly cutting down his opponents.

…

Fortune – or perhaps the Old Religion – was smiling on Merlin today. When at last she and her companion reached the part of the forest where Arthur unintentionally brought a curse down upon the people of Camelot, the noble creature she sought was resting there.

Its graceful neck bowed to her, and she bowed back.

Beside Merlin, Mithian stood immobilized by the beautiful equine form. "He'll let you touch him if you wish."

Mithian dragged her awed gaze away from the unicorn. "What about you?"

"I gave up the right to touch a unicorn several months ago. I don't regret it, though." Upon seeing Mithian's confusion, Merlin told her, "Only virgins can touch a unicorn."

A rare impishness came over her, "How do you know I can touch one, then?"

Amused, Merlin responded, "You don't strike me as the rolling in the hay type."

Mithian acknowledged the truth in the other woman's observation and then made her way over to the quiescent unicorn, lowering herself to the ground and then reaching out her hand, watching as the unicorn leaned toward her, granting permission. As she made contact with the being's muscular neck, she heard Merlin say, "I thought you might come."

"Why have you sought me so, Emrys?" An aged man in flowing, off-white robes stood several paces from Mithian. Alarmed, she went to draw her sword, stilling only when the strange man told her, "I mean you no harm, Mithian, daughter of Matthias. I am Anhora, guardian of the unicorns."

"He's harmless unless someone kills a unicorn," Mithian relaxed until she heard Merlin's addendum, "Then he starves and dehydrates your kingdom. Anhora, you control the Labyrinth of Gedref, right?" Anhora inclined his wizened head. "So the lands that Camelot and Nemeth are fighting over – they don't belong to either kingdom. They belong to you."

"Gedref belongs to no one," Anhora declared in his soft, stern voice. "It is a place of the Old Religion and therefore cannot be arbitrarily claimed by one being."

"Right. But for argument's sake, if it did belong to someone, it would be yours," Merlin hazarded, hoping that Anhora would eventually concede to her reasoning.

The old man considered her proposal, his eyes piercing her own. "In a way, that is true."

Hope unfurled and fluttered in her chest. "Would you be willing to claim control of Gedref before Nemeth and Camelot? For the sake of the unicorns, of course."

Anhora raised a hoary eyebrow, "Certainly for the unicorns, I would do such a thing."

Not wanting to exclude her from her plans, Merlin asked, "Mithian? Do you have any objections?"

She looked up from her position on the ground, stilling the hand which had been running over the unicorn's hide. "No, although if I did, I have a feeling you would be able to persuade me otherwise. You're rather an unstoppable force when you decide you want something."

…

"That," Merlin stated irritably, glaring at an implacable Anhora, "was grossly unfair." After agreeing to grant the lands of Gedref to Anhora, they appeared in a tent similar to the one she shared with Arthur, though the colors were the unmistakable white and blue of Nemeth. Their journey to the meet the unicorn, whose part of the forest lay right in the middle of the disputed land of Gedref, had taken most of the afternoon and the better part of the evening, and night would fall soon enough, forcing both armies to retreat to their camps for the night.

Unruffled by her ire, Anhora told her, "When you live to be as old as I, Emrys, you too shall be able to travel seamlessly from one part of the world to the next."

"Should I be worried that you know which tent belongs to my brother?" The two magical beings turned to blink at her as one, and choosing to simply accept that the world was an odd place, odder still when magic became involved, Mithian shook her head, "Never mind."

…

After visiting with the wounded and checking on each of his closest knights, Arthur met with Alator, who had kept a careful watch over Morgana after he and his followers knocked her out on the field. "Will she wake?"

"She is in an enchanted slumber, King Arthur. She will wake only when she enters the place where she will stay until she recovers from the madness brought on by years of suppressing her Sight and then losing her sister, whose magic helped to ground her somewhat to the present, rather than the future," the Catha explained gravely.

He watched the still form of his sister, drinking in the sight of her. Even after all the things she had done, the depth of her betrayal, Morgana was still his blood. Perhaps, one day, she might even be family again. With that thought, the young king departed from the Catha's tent.

Arthur entered his own tent, noting the signs that it belonged to more than one person. A pair of worn trousers, too slender in the waist and short in the leg, lay carelessly discarded with one of the shirts he had not worn in several years, having been squirreled away by a maidservant unwilling to admit she was in love, yet desperate to hold on to the bits and pieces of Arthur she could get, before they both confessed that they were idiots and kissed each other in Merlin's tiny room. On his side of their combined bedrolls, there lay a bit of parchment. He plucked it up on recognizing his wife's bold and deliberate scrawl.

My dear clot pole,

I'm sorry if my sudden absence worried you. I am sure that we will have a long discussion about why I do not take off without an explanation in the middle of a battle, after we take care of more pressing matters.

As I'm sure you know by now, Morgana has been up to her old tricks again. Not to worry; I have a plan. Please meet me on the outskirts of the Nemethian camp as soon as you are able.

Your loving wife,

Merlin


	10. Velocity: Speed With a Direction

Upon entering his tent, feeling exhausted, concerned for his sister, and uncertain about the possibility of success now that the Witch was gone – either dead or held captive; he was not entirely sure – Matthew looked up and then reached for his sword, alarmed at the presence of an unknown elder and Camelot's Queen. He stilled when he took note of his sister, acting perfectly companionable with the other young woman.

Mithian rose and crossed to stand before him, introducing him serenely. "Matthew, this is Merlin and Anhora. The Queen saved my life today."

Matthew wondered when the world had completely ceased to make any sort of sense.

…

"What exactly were you _thinking?_ Were you even thinking at all?"

After he finished reading Merlin's note, Arthur had snuck back out of his tent, only to come face to face with Gwaine. The garrulous knight convinced Arthur that it was in everyone's best interest if he came along, and together they departed from their army's camp, whispering disparaging remarks near-silently all the while.

Now he stood on the periphery of the enemy camp, his hands on his incorrigible wife's shoulders, waiting impatiently for an explanation. Entirely unrepentant, Merlin informed him, "Morgana was going to kill King Matthias' daughter while everyone was distracted, and later tell everyone that I'd done it. So I stopped her and then Mithian and I went on an errand."

He could feel his blood pressure rising, and forced himself to bite back the hundred or so insults and rebukes which threatened to sally forth from his lips, white from being pressed together so tightly. Breathing slowly in and out through his flared nostrils did nothing to quell his fury, but at least it allowed him to regain control of his tongue. "I spent most of the day worried out of my mind. The next time you pull a stunt like that, do me a favor and try to remember that there are people who actually _care_ whether you live or die."

Merlin snapped back, "If I'd taken the time to say something, it would have been too late to save Mithian. I won't apologize for saving a life," and glared at him hotly.

"No one would ask you to, but we would appreciate if you took a little more care with your own," Gwaine soothed, causing Merlin to release the tension in her slender frame.

As he felt her relax under his hands, and heard her mutter in reluctant acquiescence, Arthur's irritation spiked. Why was it that the other man always knew what to say to bring Merlin back from the edge? His wife put up with a lot from Arthur, he could admit that. What most people failed to realize was that she displayed quite a fiery temper when sufficiently provoked, and combined with his own temper and their equally stubborn natures, their relationship had always been destined to be explosive. Gwaine, though volatile in his own right, somehow managed to cancel out the reactions Merlin often had to Arthur's equally passionate personality.

Drawing himself back to the matter at hand, Arthur reminded Merlin that, "Now, you said in your note that you had some sort of plan?"

Merlin fidgeted. "Yeah, um. Before we go meet with the others, I should probably ask: exactly how important is Gedref to you?"

"It contains several coal mines that Camelot uses, and is home to a few minor noble families. Why?" It was never a good sign when Merlin shifted about with that uncomfortable expression on her face. "What did you do?"

She bit her lip before telling him, "I found a way to stop the war with Nemeth, but not to prevent Camelot from losing its claim to Gedref."

Sensing her reticence, Arthur prompted her with, "I'm listening."

Merlin took a deep breath and ploughed ahead. "While I was with Princess Mithian, I had a thought: what if someone else could claim control of Gedref, someone outside of Camelot and Nemeth?"

"And you found such a person?" Arthur inferred.

Grinning at his continued acceptance, Merlin confirmed, "I did," and grabbed one of his hands, dragging him off to Matthew's tent and knowing Gwaine would follow.

They ventured inside the tent which was rapidly growing cramped, and Arthur started upon seeing a familiar face. "You cannot be serious."

"Yes, I can," Merlin countered flatly. She had suspected this would go over poorly, but what other choice did they have? If they could prevent the senseless deaths of hundreds of men on both sides, she was willing to do pretty much whatever it took. "Anhora has agreed to help us sort this mess out, so please try to be nice." The last part she said in an undertone, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Arthur put on his pained-looking, 'only for you and for the love of Camelot,' smile. She doubted anyone found it convincing, considering it looked more like he was trying to hide a toothache, but it would have to suffice.

…

In the end, the negotiations took far less time than Merlin anticipated, and if no one emerged feeling entirely satisfied, at least the boys behaved amiably toward each other. She supposed it helped that she and Mithian genuinely liked each other and wanted the others to get along.

As they shook hands, preparing to part ways, Arthur told Matthew, "I'll have a courier send copies of the new treaty to the nobles living in Gedref upon our return. Will your father agree to it?"

"He is a wise man – I am sure he will see the sense in a peaceful resolution eventually," Matthew responded, his soft voice ringing with a firm yet gentle resolve.

They separated and Arthur turned to Mithian, bowing slightly and telling her, "I am glad to have met you, Princess. I'm sorry if the decision I have made caused you any grief; no insult was intended."

Mithian shook her head. "I admit I was rather hurt when the news reached Nemeth, but Merlin is a wonderful person, and I am sure there is someone out there who will be as devoted to me as you are to her. You did the right thing."

Arthur shot his wife a glance and then told Mithian dryly, "I'll have to remember that the next time she turns all the council members' hair and clothes orange."

Feigning outrage, Merlin protested, "It was one time, and they were asking for it! Besides, it's not as if it hurt anyone."

"I don't know, Merlin," Gwaine butted in. "For a while there I was pretty sure I would go blind."

"Aren't you supposed to be on my side?"

"Of course I am. That doesn't mean I don't occasionally question your taste."

Merlin rolled her eyes, inwardly reveling in the return of their usual banter. "You're philistines, the lot of you."


	11. An Object At Rest

"Arthur, we need to talk." Too ominous.

A finger snap and a saucy once-over. "Just so you know, your butt looks _really good_ in those trousers." Too desperate.

"So, you know how I've been throwing up a lot lately? Well, it's actually a really funny story… Except that it's not funny at all."

"Hey, Daddy!" Ugh. No.

"Guess who's cursed with your sprog now!" If she said that, Arthur would burst a blood vessel.

Although, really, that was fairly likely no matter how she said it. Shoulders slumping, she continued staring at the pillow she was using to represent her husband and simply said, "Arthur, I'm pregnant."

…

Merlin asked George to bring all of Arthur's favorite foods for dinner, hoping that filling his stomach would help reduce the magnitude of the impending explosion. Though he had yet to forgive her completely for disappearing in the midst of a battle, his mood had been fairly decent since their return home three weeks prior. The treaty with Nemeth was received with guarded acceptance by King Mathias, and Gwen had kept the castle running smoothly in their absence, leaving few headaches for Merlin and Arthur to deal with.

During their time back in Camelot, she continually tried to work up the nerve to share the news, only to put it off until later. Finally, Gwaine had convinced her to grit her teeth and do it, because her excuses in regard to the vomiting and the rather mercurial moods were starting to wear thin, and several women in the castle had taken to giving her sidelong looks.

Smoothing out the grey-blue tunic she pulled on after the council adjourned earlier in the day – another filched from Arthur when it started becoming threadbare – she waited, feeling ready to jump out of her skin. She ran through various scenarios in her mind, each one resulting in further fretting until she thought she might go mad.

On the brink of bolting, she tensed as Arthur strode in, sweaty and pleasantly tired from training with the knights. "Where were you today? After the council meeting you just vanished."

"I had to… wash my hair." As soon as it was out of her mouth, she wanted to smack herself. Really?

Arthur peered at her dubiously. "Alright. Took all afternoon, did it?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it did." She fidgeted with the silverware and asked, "So, are we going to eat at some point, or not?"

Dinner was quiet. Arthur could tell that something was not entirely right in his wife's world, and rather than trying to pretend the evidence is not there, or pushing for more information, he simply waited her out. When something bothered her, Merlin always cracked eventually, no matter how long it took.

Sated, he sat back and watched her twist the excess fabric of her right shirt sleeve through her left hand and then glance up at him. "So, um. I have to talk to you." For a while, that was all, and she stared up at him from under her long black lashes, either struggling to find the words or wondering exactly how upset or concerned or irritated whatever it was would make him. Then, she took a deep, slow breath and straightened. "So, you know how I've been throwing up a lot lately?" At Arthur's nod, she went on. "Well, I know the reason for it, and it's not really stress related at all. I'm pregnant."

As the words registered, he laughed exultantly and jumped up from his seat at the table, pulling Merlin up as well and twirling her about. "That's what's had you so worried today? What, did you think I would be upset? Are you not happy?"

Her eyes widened and she hastened to assure him, "Oh, Arthur, of course I'm happy! It's wonderful, it's what we wanted."

She still wasn't smiling, though.

He thought back over the last month or so, ever since they received that first missive from Nemeth, and the times she would smile weakly and say, "Oh, don't worry about it. I'm sure it's nothing. If I went to see Gaius, he'd just tell me the same thing I'm telling you: it's stress." He had ignored it, but every single time she had that slightly uncomfortable, nervous expression that was a little too innocent that always signaled that she was lying.

He became a statue, still holding her close, though now his arms were there to keep her from running.

"When exactly are you going to stop lying to me? Will you ever? Tell me, Merlin, how do you keep it all straight – what you've told me, what you've told other people?" His words bit into her, though she stubbornly refused to flinch.

Quietly, she stated, "You're forgetting something important, you know. My first priority will always be to keep you safe, and there was no way you would have wanted me anywhere near the battlefield if you knew. I'm sorry I lied to you, but I'm not sorry for doing what needed to be done."

"Don't look at me like that," he snapped furiously, "like I should feel guilty for being angry. I have a right to get upset when I find out you've risked something precious yet again because you decided that you were going to handle everything on your own." He snatched up her left hand and held it between them. "Do you see this? Do you see the ring on your finger? That's supposed to mean that we're a team, that there's trust between us. But I don't see how I can trust you when you never stop to think about the consequences of your actions." He let her go and turned his back, stalking toward the door.

"Where are you going?"

Staring at the wooden door, he answered flatly, "I'm going to the queen's chambers."

"That… makes no sense." She probably should not contradict him while he was so angry, but she had never been able to quell her curiosity, especially where her other half was concerned.

"Traditionally, the queen has her own chambers, and she only shares with the king when he sends for her."

"So, why are you going there?"

He sighed heavily before explaining, "Because even though I'm tired, and frustrated, and angry, and I really can't be in the same room with you right now, I'm not going to kick you out of our bed."

As he yanked on the handle, Merlin called anxiously, "When do you think you'll come back?"

"When I stop wanting to strangle some sense into you."

…

Arthur avoided spending time in his wife's company for two weeks, the ache from their extended separation warring with his anger at her actions. Though no one knew the cause, gossips of the court whispered excitedly whenever he walked past, caught up in the drama of his first marital spat. Every morning, he waited for her to leave their chambers and then snuck in, pulling on the clothes she still faithfully laid out for him and eating his portion of the breakfast she had George bring up from the kitchens. Rather than going to Merlin for help, if he needed his armor - which she still kept neatly polished - he went to Leon, who assisted him without question or comment. He ate his meals with the knights, save for Gwaine, who had spent the time outside his duties with Merlin.

Arthur appreciated Gwaine's friendship with his wife, even though it still niggled at him when left to his own thoughts. Every once in a while, his mind would revisit the period of time in the Fisher King's castle when Merlin was trapped in the throne room and they were trying desperately to get to her.

_"There's got to be a way to open this," Gwaine declared, as though saying it would make it true._

_Arthur studied him out of the corner of his eye, while thinking about possible ways to pry open the trap door. "So how did Merlin wind up dragging you along?"_

_Gwaine kept examining the trap door, though he replied, "She came and found me."_

_"How exactly did she find you quickly enough to bring you all the way through the Perilous Lands?" Arthur demanded, crossing his arms over his chest. He realized that he had lost some time while unconscious, but Merlin must have made the journey incredibly quickly to have caught up with him when she did._

_"She knew I was staying in Angard for a while." He glanced at Arthur, acting as unconcerned as possible whilst worrying about the woman on the other side of the barrier. "She's been keeping in touch. Does that surprise you?"_

_"Not in the least," Arthur lied, "Merlin has always become attached to people easily, even if they're not necessarily good for her."_

_Gwaine let the comment slide off of his back, but told Arthur, "You can relax. For some reason which I will never understand, she thinks the sun shines out of your royal arse, and in spite of what you might like to believe, I'm not in the habit of going after someone who's already spoken for."_

_ Still unconvinced, Arthur probed, "But you would if she weren't?"_

_"Have you looked at her lately? She's beautiful, she's funny, she doesn't judge, and she's braver than most men I've met. You hold onto her, because if you're not careful, I promise she will be able to find someone else."_

_Arthur shook his head, incredulous. "You can't honestly tell me you think you're worthy of her."_

_Gwaine simply stared at him and said, "Thing is, I know I'm not. But then, neither are you."_

_Arthur had nothing to say to that, and they still needed to find a way to save the woman they both loved._

On the fourteenth night, he walked into his temporary chambers to find Gwaine sitting in a feline languor in a chair at an ornate wooden table.

"Did she put you up to this?"

The knight shook his head and asked, "Do you really think she would? She's far too proud to admit it, but she's hurting, and I think you're both being stupid." When Arthur went to protest, Gwaine waved a hand and told him, "You have a right to be angry, I get that. But you haven't even tried to see it from her point of view yet. I may not agree with what she did, but –"

Arthur cut in, "She told you?"

Gwaine gave him a look. "Of course she didn't. In case it slipped your notice – which, frankly, wouldn't surprise me in the least – she's not exactly the most forthcoming individual. I guessed."

"Well, why don't you 'guess' what I think about this conversation and leave?" Arthur snarked. He hated it when someone inadvertently pointed out his occasional obliviousness.

Immune to Arthur's moods, Gwaine informed him, "I'm not leaving until you agree to stop avoiding your wife. She's been eating less than normal, she has dark circles under her eyes, and she rarely ever smiles. You're both miserable, princess, so fix it."

…

Arthur slowly opened the door to their room, finding it dark and silent but for the light snore Merlin always denied she had. He stripped down to his smallclothes and slipped in beside her, pulling her close. She did feel thinner than normal, and Arthur began plotting ways to get her to eat more as her eyes fluttered open. "Hi," he whispered, watching her face, which had been drawn into a forlorn frown even in her sleep, light up as her mind came back from the depths of her slumber. Running a hand through her black waves, he apologized, "I didn't mean to wake you."

Softly, Merlin told him, "Don't be sorry. I'm glad you did," before looking away and asking, "Did you get tired of sleeping in a different bed?"

"Well, I have to admit, it was rather odd not having someone hog the covers at night." At his light tone, she turned to face him again and sighed happily.

"I think I can fix that."


	12. Tends to Stay at Rest

**Gah. Okay, I said in my notes somewhere that this fic was sixteen parts long. I lied, though not intentionally. I think I have the number sixteen stuck in my head because this fic is approximately 16,000 words long. **

**Having said that, this is the final chapter of the main story arc for this series. Anything else I do for this series will be in separate documents.**

**I'm so, so sorry for the confusion.**

After making amends and promising each other to work on communicating more effectively, life for the king and queen of Camelot returned to normal – or as normal as possible, given Merlin's expanding waistline.

Arthur helped the expansion along, constantly tempting his wife with foods she had coveted while a servant, and now had limitless access to as queen. She went along with his schemes, largely because she was glad that everything between them had been resolved, and wanted to keep the peace. Eventually she would resume her lifelong mission to drive him insane – possibly by enlisting the help of their children – in a sweet, loving way.

Months after preventing war with Nemeth, Merlin woke in the middle of the night and whispered to Arthur, who had woken when he felt her stirring, "Get Gaius. Now."

The aging man arrived with Gwen in tow and hustled an anxious Arthur out of their chambers, and then the real work had begun.

"Not fun. I am _not_ having fun!" Merlin panted as she tried to push yet again, feeling the sweat pouring down her back and her brow, and decided that her first action after this was over would be to look up spells for contraception, because she was _never_ doing this again.

When Gaius told her to keep going, and that she was doing, "so well," Merlin glared at him fiercely enough that Gwen worried the elderly physician might not survive the next few hours.

Fortunately, her fears proved unfounded.

…

Arthur stared down at the two bundles in his arms and then over at his exhausted wife. "Twins?"

"I did say that they ran in my family," Merlin replied, calm now that the birthing process was over.

"I thought you were _joking_!"

She tiled her head in a lethargic imitation of a shrug and quipped, "Surprise?"

Careful not to jar his children, Arthur slumped into a chair someone had thoughtfully placed by their bed, and shook his head slowly. "One thing is certain: life with you will never be boring."

"Wasn't that the entire reason you kept me around in the first place?" Merlin retorted softly, hoping not to wake the two very loud creatures who had recently vacated her womb.

Arthur glanced about at the chaos of their chambers and informed her, "Well it certainly wasn't for your exceptional organizational skills."

"I just gave you a son and a daughter," Merlin reminded him flatly. "You should be kissing my arse."

Gazing at her with artfully innocent eyes, Arthur asked, "Are you sure? I thought behavior like that was what led us here."

"Why do I put up with you?" Merlin playfully groused.

"Because you love me."

After giving a show of consideration, she conceded, "Yes, I suppose I do."

They whispered to each other for a little while longer, still undecided on the matter of baby names – Merlin insisted that because she had done all the work, she should have the final say, and Arthur wasn't entirely certain he could refute that, but knew that he would love to try.

Sweet slumber pulled at his wife in the wee hours of the morning, and she went willingly. Arthur, however, could not take his eyes off of his little family.

He would always remember the day that Merlin first saved him as one of the best of his life, because without it, she would never have been able to give him this.


End file.
